


Unweaving

by nixwilliams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-22
Updated: 2007-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nixwilliams/pseuds/nixwilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ansem had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire shitty life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unweaving

**Author's Note:**

> Five drabbles. Originally posted on LJ in January 2007. Dedicated to exitsign. Thanks to missyjack for the beta.

**1.**

The first time he saw Andy, he had no idea who he was – just a random, dark-eyed kid washing dishes. He was wearing badly-fitting pink gloves and they hit his elbows as he scrubbed his way through a pile of dirty plates and bowls. There was a patch of damp on his apron where he’d been leaning against the sink.

As Ansem watched, all the peripheral objects melted away, dreamlike, until the only thing left was the kid’s soft smile, the coffee-warm curve of his mouth.

Ansem had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire shitty life.

 

 **2.**

The kid’s face moves through his dreams like a whisper of cloud, smudging red horizons light pink, sinking through the surfaces of weird oily lakes and slipping clean through greasy windows. Sometimes when he’s panicking, when his limbs are treacle-slow and the bile is rising in his throat, he turns his head and there’s that smile, like a cool hand on his forehead.

One night, when the water is closing over Ansem’s face, the kid leans down and gives Ansem his breath, his mouth.

He wakes gently, and there’s a murmur in the back of his skull. _Andy. Andy. Andy._

 

 **3.**

When Ansem makes it to the diner, Andy smiles, leans into his embrace, and mumbles something like, _Finally. You’re here._ Then he adds, _I missed you_ , and Ansem’s not sure what he means until Andy’s eyes crinkle up with happiness, and he says, _I always wanted a brother_.

Ansem remembers something like the soft curl of hair on fingers and hands on faces, the frantic rush of air and the slick of sweat on skin.

He wakes up with a hollow fist pushing up inside his chest. Stumbles for the bathroom just in time to throw up in the sink.

 

 **4.**

Andy’s eyes pull him closer, reel him in through his nights and into his days. Ansem packs his bags and takes a bus to a new town, following the conversations twisting in his sleep. The weft is dark and red and black. _You have every right. He’s yours and yours alone._ The warp is light blue and grey and says _I’m yours. You’re mine, I’m yours._

He wraps himself in an old jumper, and shivers in the corner of this new apartment. He imagines the shadows are hiding his brother, his twin, and not the dead world of his dreams.

 

 **5.**

The first time he saw Andy, it was like being hit in the gut with a sack of rose petals.

Andy was standing at a diner table, pouring a refill of coffee, and his shirt-sleeve brushed across his wrist. He looked up with a polite, “Can I help you?” and Ansem froze, remembering, _You’re mine, I’m yours,_ dream-wet lips and wide dark eyes.

“Hey, bro,” he said, voice thin with disuse. “I, uh, I’m looking for a job. You’re hiring.”

Andy flicked him a grin, and ducked behind the bar.

He was the most beautiful thing Ansem had ever seen.


End file.
